Dust
by shinigami714
Summary: Kili explores some of Erebor's long lost hallways, making a few unexpected discoveries along the way.


AN: The accompanying illustration for this can be found on my A03!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Implied Future Mpreg

Pairing: Fíli/Kíli, Implied Thorin/Bilbo

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><p><strong>Dust<strong>

The halls of Erebor were abuzz with activity. Dwarves had travelled from far and wide to make their home within the mountain after word spread that Thorin Oakenshield took his rightful place as King. It was a drastic contrast to the state the kingdom had been in nearly three months prior. After the battle at Erebor's gates, nothing seemed able to drive away the dreary atmosphere about the area. Days were spent mourning the deaths of the fallen. Needless deaths at that. And the surrounding fields were drenched in the blood of so many warriors and civilians alike. Identifying bodies was a task no living being should have been forced to endure, but it was a necessity under the circumstances. Weeks later and finally proper burial rights were given to all of the dead, their spirits allowed to rest in peace, while the injured still grappled for their lives in various rooms beneath the mountain.

For many days Thorin feared he'd lost his own nephews in the battle, both injured gravely as they fought bravely to protect him and the rest of their companions. The King spent day and night at their bedsides waiting for a glimpse of life, alongside the rest of the company, and with Bilbo's comforting hands upon his shoulders. Eventually the two lads opened their eyes, Fíli first, and characteristically, Kíli not long after, as the two seemed to always follow one another to the ends of the earth and back. Somehow every member of Thorin's company had survived their arduous journey from start to finish, even their quick-witted burglar, to which the dwarf king presented a sincere and heartfelt apology. It was taken in stride, with a few tears, and several meaningful embraces, though Bilbo did not neglect to lecture the dwarf for his irrational behaviour. The Arkenstone was returned to its place above the throne, though it seemed not to hold the same importance it once had, and acted more as a painful reminder of mistakes made than anything else. Many lessons were learned, for all who fought against the terrifying orc and goblin armies, lessons that would not soon be forgotten.

In time Thorin was able to focus on settling things with the citizens of Lake-Town and Thranduil. Gold was given where gold was due, no longer begrudgingly, and things were finally beginning to look up. Trade arrangements were already in action as the dwarves worked tirelessly to reactivate the mines within the mountain. There was plenty of construction that needed doing, and each new arrival of citizens added more helping hands to the mix. There were even plans to rebuild much of Dale, with the hopes that one day the city would thrive again, full of merchants and their fine crafted wares.

Hammering and shouting was heard around nearly every corner, and Kíli huffed as he hoisted some blocks up on a pulley. The young dwarf waited for a signal from the group above before releasing his grip and relaxing his shoulders. He rubbed the sweat from his face and sighed heavily. He was still recovering, and hard lifting work was difficult on him at the best of times. His right shoulder ached from where an arrow had pierced him in the battle and he stretched it out with a grimace. He knew his brother would be on his case about straining the injury, but Kíli wanted to help as much as he could with the restoration effort. He'd spent enough time resting, and was ready to act his part as a Durin, some of the time anyway. Kíli had always thirsted to prove himself to anyone that cared to look, and even after fighting in a battle he felt the need to do so. He was just getting ready to lift another block when he felt a gentle grip settle against his arm. As he turned he was met with Bofur's smiling face.

"Why not take a break, my prince," the kindly dwarf suggested, and Kíli flushed at the endearment. He didn't think he'd ever get used to others referring to him as royalty, but everyone insisted on doing so, now that they were re-establishing the kingdom. His coronation wasn't even set to occur until Erebor was suitably fixed up.

"You don't have to call me that, you know," Kíli pouted at Bofur, but the other dwarf merely grinned and tilted his head to the side. Kíli sighed in resignation and looked around at their busy surroundings before glancing to where his bow leant against a nearby pillar. Truthfully he really wanted some time to himself, to take a look around the elaborate hallways, and perhaps practice his archery form. He hadn't shot an arrow since the battle and he was itching to go hunting, so much that he'd taken to carting his bow around with him wherever he went.

"You sure you don't need me?" Kíli asked, trying to keep his voice from sounding too eager.

"You've worked hard enough today. Besides, Prince Fíli will have my head if you reopen any wounds," Bofur whispered at him behind a raised hand and Kíli grinned at the other dwarf and hurried to swing his bow about his shoulder. He skipped away with a wave and walked through the central corridors, beneath the working hands of dwarves old and young. He began whistling a tune and paused as he saw another familiar face nearby. Dwalin sat on the leg of a ladder, rubbing a cloth over his sweaty brow and he looked up as Kíli approached.

"Where are yeh off to laddie?" the warrior asked, nodding at the other dwarf in greeting. Kíli turned towards him and walked backwards as he continued on his way, an impish grin upon his face.

"Scoping out the halls, heard there was an armoury in the Eastern quarter. Thought I might see what's there!" Kíli spoke, readjusting his bow on his uninjured shoulder. Dwalin eyed the young dwarf suspiciously, taking in his mischievous expression before pointing a thick finger in his direction.

"Stay out of trouble, yeh hear me? Don't want yer uncle riding my arse because you've gone meddlin' somewhere you ought not to!" Dwalin shouted, and Kíli waved him off as he turned away.

"Ah, I wouldn't dream of it Dwalin!" Kíli shouted over his shoulder, and burly dwarf shook his head and lifted a heavy hammer, preparing to chip away at some stone.

Kíli pushed open a set of heavy doors, nodding occasionally at dwarves that passed him by, looking towards his feet shyly whenever they bowed or recognized him as a prince. He took his first right, knowing the layout of a few of the halls in that direction, but he soon became lost in the mazelike structure of the mountain depths. He took a staircase up, curiously taking in the dusty walls and pillars. It was a bit stuffy and definitely in need of cleaning. The brunet figured such things would happen after all of the rebuilding was complete. There would be more months of preparation, scrubbing, decorating, and polishing, until every surface looked the way it had before the invasion of Smaug. It was exciting, in some respects, but the thought also made him sigh wearily.

As he set foot down an incredibly tall ceilinged path, Kíli's eyes widened dramatically. Huge tapestries decorated the walls. They must have been more than six dwarves tall! Kíli peered closely at the ornate lattice work, and ran his fingers over the interwoven threads. He wondered where the looms were within the mountain that created such beautiful pieces, or if they were gifts from some of the other kingdoms in Middle Earth. They depicted scenes from battles, and important moments from the history of Erebor. One was clearly a representation of Mahal in all his glory, a great hammer in his hand as he brought the dwarves up from the stone beneath his feet.

"Wow," Kíli whispered under his breath as his feet took him to stand before a family tree depicting the line of Durin. It was so tall he could barely make out the first few names and portraits, and though he knew some of the dwarves from his studies, many were unfamiliar. Fíli was always better with that sort of thing. What stood out to him though, was that it ended with Thorin's name near the bottom, a line connecting the dwarf king with his lost brother Frerin, and Dis, along with her late husband. The tapestry had been woven long before his own birth, or even Fíli's for that matter, and the brunet wondered what his parents' lives might have been like had Erebor never been attacked. Perhaps his father would still be alive, perhaps Kíli might have met him, or perhaps he never would have been born at all. The thought brought a shiver down his spine, and he shook off the uneasy feeling.

Kíli dragged his finger down the weave, tracing an imaginary mark that might one day lead to his brother's name. His heart warmed as he thought of his brother, and he found he was smiling wistfully. It had been many days since he and Fíli had been able to spend time with one another. The older of the two was almost always at Thorin's side, learning the ways of the Kingdom, the trade routes, and other diplomatic things he'd need to know. Kíli nibbled at his lip anxiously. He felt lost without the other dwarf at his side and he traced a circle where his brother's portrait might eventually exist. He wondered how long until Fíli's name would lead to another beneath it, and another beside it, and Kíli grew sad at the thought.

Someday his brother would become king. That wasn't a bad thing, not at all, for the blond dwarf would surely make a wonderful king. But it also meant that Fíli would one day wed, and more than likely bring an heir into the world, and Kíli would just be a name somewhere off to the side, lost and forgotten. He didn't like the notion that someone else's portrait might separate them, that one day they would not stand at each other's sides in life, or in history, as they always had up to that point. He grimaced and pulled his hand away quickly, though the trail he'd made was still visible where dust had been pushed from the tapestry in his finger's wake.

Kíli took a deep breath and continued down the hall, eyeing his surroundings with a little less spirit than he had before. It was strangely quiet, without the hammering and activity of dwarves all around, though he could still hear the faint droning sounds of the mines below. It comforted him to know he was not completely alone in the mountain, no matter how lost he might have been inside his mind.

The brunet continued down the hallway for a few minutes until he came upon a set of ornate doors, crafted in gold and encrusted with jewels. They were heavy and it was difficult to push them open, especially when favouring a shoulder, but Kíli managed and they gave against his weight with a loud droning creak. The room beyond was surprisingly bright and Kíli brought an arm up to shield his eyes until they adjusted to the change.

He stopped in surprise as he took everything in. The room was surprisingly spacious, though still small compared to many others within the mountain. He observed the items within and realised it was some kind of reliquary. Thick tomes and weapons were displayed atop solid sculptures of the kings of past, and several stone slabs supported highly ornate objects, inlayed with jewels of all kinds. There was a hole in the ceiling, allowing rays of sunlight to stream into the area, and it glittered and reflected off the items inside, creating speckled patterns on the surrounding walls. He must have been higher up than he thought.

Kíli stepped closer to the slabs with a shrug and felt his jaw go slack as he took in the objects more carefully. The room housed the royal family's ceremonial crowns! They were far more ornate than the ones used for daily wear, passed down from generation to generation, and Kíli figured they were worn only to special events. They were likely kept in pristine condition for coronations, perhaps for weddings as well, or even holidays. Made to wear to the great feasts and celebrations hosted in Erebor's depths.

All thoughts of hunting were long gone as Kíli walked about the room, taking in each and every detail. He nervously toyed with his bow string as he approached, afraid to touch anything or knock something fragile to the ground. For years it had all gone untouched, it was a miracle the room remained so intact during Smaug's invasion, and he didn't want to disturb the space. But surely a closer look was safe enough. The room existed for a reason, after all, and the crowns were laid out so beautifully, clearly meant to be gazed upon by curious eyes.

It was easy to recognize the King's crown, the one that Thorin would wear to his official coronation. It was highly ornate, and similar in shape to the more simplistic crown they had found not long after taking back the mountain. The jewels encrusted in it must have been worth a fortune. It seemed to emulate the Arkenstone, a glittering blue at its centre front, though it must have been crafted years prior to the discovery of that particular jewel. Kíli wondered what his uncle might think of that, considering the problems the Arkenstone had brought about between him and Bilbo Baggins.

The consort's crown was equally as attractive, clearly designed to match and compliment the stone-like structure of the other. Kíli found himself giggling as he imagined it set atop the hobbit's golden brown curls. Bilbo would more than likely scoff at such a thing. He'd think it a waste of resources and overly formal. Kíli smiled fondly and lowered his eyes. He knew Bilbo would give in eventually, if only to make Thorin happy.

He stepped along further and paused in front of the next, reading the Khuzdul engraved on the stone beneath it. _Rayad. _ The heir's crown. His fingers itched to run across its surface and he eventually gave in, lifting his hand so he could touch the multifaceted stone set in its front. His nail clinked against the surface and he pulled his fingers away quickly, holding them tight to his chest. His brother would wear that crown. Kíli could envision the way it might look, nestled against Fíli's golden hair. The jewels and the shape would suit him. He smiled fondly and lowered his eyes in respect, moving to look for a generic prince's crown. It was further away, the word Rayadith engraved beneath it and Kíli stared at it oddly. It was by all rights his, but it didn't call out to him. It felt drab, despite its ornate qualities, and when he placed his fingers atop it, the surface was frightfully cold to the touch. He couldn't imagine wearing such a thing at all.

Kíli's eyes fell back towards the heir's crown and then moved to the subtle and more simplistic one displayed beside it, one that he found strangely captivating, and he moved closer to it hesitantly. The crown was a white gold, fairly intricate when one looked close, but sported far fewer gems than many of the others in the room. His eyes flickered over the word beneath and he frowned. _Mizimith_. Kíli's shoulders slumped. He should have known. It complimented his brother's crown so well, despite the different shapes. The jewels matched, and together the crowns made a striking pair. Fíli's future consort would wear it. Kíli's heart ached slightly, and he reached out, picking the circlet up between his fingers carefully. His hands shook nervously as he turned it about, taking in every detail, and he found himself lifting it above his head enviously. Kíli paused, holding the trinket just over his hair, and on impulse he let it settle, the gentle weight pressing down against him.

The brunet swallowed timidly, and turned towards one of the other crowns. He could just barely see his reflection in the large jewel before him. He took a moment to study the way the crown looked atop his head, a stark contrast to the dark colour of his hair, before he caught sight of a slight movement behind him. Kíli turned with a loud gasp, and his eyes widened as he spotted his brother leaning casually between the gap left between the set of heavy doors. Kíli flinched to the side knocking one of the pillars off balance, and he stumbled to upright it, before hurrying to place the circlet back where he found it. A cloud of dust swarmed up around him from the scuffle, and Kíli coughed and tried to whisk some of it away. His face was steaming, and he furrowed his brow and bit his lip, doing his best to steady his breathing.

"H-how long have you been there?" Kíli stuttered, his heart beating erratically, and Fíli chuckled under his breath. The blond dwarf's arms were crossed and he was smirking playfully as he watched his brother fumble around. He didn't say anything, instead pushing away from the door, and scuffing towards the brunet slowly. Fíli's eyes took in the room just as his brother had earlier, and he observed the crowns carefully, reading the words written beneath them. It didn't take him long to recognize the one meant for him, and he lifted it with care from its place atop the pillar, taking in the details with keen eyes. Fíli eased it atop his head, adjusting his hair slightly beneath it, before he turned towards his brother with open eyes.

"What do you think?" Fíli asked playfully, the braids beside his lips rising as he smiled.

"Does it suit me?" the older dwarf struck a royal pose and winked at his brother impishly. Kíli grinned brightly; his cheeks still flushed red from embarrassment, though his brother's actions put him more at ease. At least Fíli wasn't angry at him for meddling with the relics.

"You'd look good wearing any of them probably," the brunet uttered, and Fíli tilted his head to the side.

"Even that one?" the blond asked, pointing to the King's crown set high above the others. Kíli lowered his gaze slightly and nodded.

"Even that one," he admitted. The brunet shrugged his bow slightly, adjusting it against his back as he fiddled with the straps of his quiver nervously.

"With any luck, it will be a long time before I am graced with that honour," Fíli voiced, his drawl pulling Kíli's gaze up once more. The elder brother stepped up to Kíli's side and turned to look at the refined circlet displayed next to him.

"This was the crown you were wearing," he stated, and he looked towards the Khuzdul engraved beneath it calmly. His eyes narrowed slightly and Kíli flinched at the sight, tugging his arms around his body with unease.

"I'm…I'm sorry Fíli, I shouldn't have, it's not my right," the young dwarf rambled but Fíli didn't pay him any mind. The blond's eyes were fixed firmly upon the crown, and he reached out and lifted it from its place, turning it around in his hands much as Kíli had done only moments before.

"I've always wondered what this crown might look like. I've read about them all in books of course, but not seen any visual depictions of them. Náin the Second's consort, Balva, would have worn this one once. The last dwarf to do so," he explained, interrupting his brother from making further apologies.

"Did you know it was of elven make?" the blond queried, glancing towards the other dwarf with piercing eyes. Kíli shook his head and listened carefully. It was difficult to believe that elves and dwarves had once lived amongst one another in peace. He'd grown up hearing only tales of their betrayal. Their relations seemed on the mend, but it would likely be a long while before Thorin truly felt comfortable arranging dealings with Thranduil, or any elf for that matter.

"One of numerous gifts given to Thráin the Old, long ago, upon the founding of Erebor," Fíli continued as he turned to face his brother.

"It went unused for many years, as few heirs were formally wed before their induction as king. There was never really a need," the blond explained, and Kíli was enraptured by his smooth voice. His brother always seemed to know so very much, and he spoke of dwarven history with such passion. The only lessons Kíli ever remembered were those his brother taught him.

"Delicate," Fíli muttered, lifting the circlet so the light reflected off it at different angles, and he idly rubbed some of the dust away from the gemstones inset alongside it.

"Not nearly as ornate as the others," he observed, before raising his eyes to look upon Kíli's brown irises. Their gazes met and locked, and Kíli felt his face heating as he struggled not to look away. Fíli was visibly examining him, and the younger dwarf shifted on his feet awkwardly under the scrutiny.

"And yet for some reason it suits you so well," Fíli murmured, his head tilted slightly to the left. Kíli blinked at him in surprise, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

"I wonder why," Fíli whispered, tapping his finger lightly against the side of the relic. The blond took another step towards his brother, bringing the two uncomfortably close together for any sort of conversation. Kíli nearly stepped away, but his brother's next action kept him frozen in place. Fíli lifted the crown swiftly and put it back on the other dwarf's head. Kíli's heart skipped a beat and his eyebrows rose in astonishment. He felt the warm touch of metal against his temples, and shivered as his brother's fingers trailed down the sides of his face. Fíli had just effectively inaugurated him, with his future consort's crown! Not officially of course, but Kíli was still taken back by the action. He breathed in a gasp of air, flushing as he looked into the other dwarf's brilliant blue eyes. Fíli was leaning back ever so slightly, studying him from head to toe, and Kíli worried his lip when the other dwarf ran the palm of his hand gently across his shoulder, tracing the wound that lay hidden beneath layers of fabric.

The mines rumbled again in the distance, and Kíli could hear the perpetual thrumming of the pistons working. The brunet felt his heart beating along with them in a steady rhythm. Dust lifted and settled around the two dwarves each time the mountain shook, and the rays of sunlight flickered about, creating long shadows across both their faces. Kíli barely felt his brother's grip tighten, as both hands found their way behind his head, entangling in his long dark hair. Chills ran through Kíli's body, even though the room was plenty warm, and his cheeks were visibly heated. And suddenly Fíli had closed the minimal distance between them, and his hot breath found its way inside Kíli's mouth. Their lips were touching, firmly, and the brunet closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as he realised his brother was kissing him.

It was an unfamiliar experience for him, and his mind scrambled as he took in the new feeling. It was warm, and wet, and he felt a strange sensation in his gut, though not an uncomfortable one. It was exciting, and he felt more alive than ever before. The fingers entangled in his hair tugged his head back slightly, bringing gooseflesh to the skin on his neck and across the length of both his arms. His face felt tender where Fíli's beard scratched against it, and he let out a tiny whimper as his brother nibbled gently on his lower lip. Kíli's body was reacting to the stimulation and he leaned into the other dwarf slightly, feeling let down when Fíli pulled away, separating their lips in an enticingly slow manner.

Kíli felt out of breath, and his mouth hung open as he struggled to regain his bearings. When he opened his eyes, everything appeared inexplicably clearer. His vision was crisp, even more so than usual, and he could hear everything, the sounds of the mountain impossibly loud in his ears. His nerve endings seemed heightened, and Fíli's hand at his nape felt like ten thousand support beams holding him in place. Fíli looked perfectly relaxed and at ease in comparison, and his lips rose up in a pleased grin as he pressed his nose tenderly against his brother's.

"Was that your first kiss?" Fíli asked, and Kíli swallowed and lowered his eyes shamefully, his dark eyelashes splaying across his cheekbones.

"Are you making fun of me?" Kíli whispered, feeling slightly humiliated that he'd lived to nearly eighty without kissing another dwarf.

"No, Kíli. There's no shame in it," Fíli insisted, and he ran his thumbs over the other dwarf's cheeks, just beneath his eyes.

"I'm honoured, to be your first," Fíli admitted before he pressed a light kiss to the side of Kíli's nose. His hands slid down to find purchase at the younger dwarf's shoulders, and he rubbed soothing patterns into the brunet's tunic.

"I hope to be your first, in many ways," he continued, bringing about another flush on Kíli's skin. The young prince was astounded, not entirely sure what to make of such a statement. Glimpses of so many situations passed through his mind, and he found it difficult to meet his brother's eyes. Kíli reached up and touched the crown anxiously, worried that he might be making assumptions that would only disappoint him in the end.

"I should put it back," Kíli spoke, but Fíli's hands stalled his movement to do so.

"I want it to stay, right where it is," the blond declared, and when Kíli raised his eyes he was shocked by the intensity of his brother's expression.

"R-really?" Kíli stuttered, slowly lowering his hands, and Fíli took them in his own, entangling their fingers together.

"Bâhith, Nadadith, Mizimith," Fíli whispered, the words rolling over his tongue smoothly from many years of practise with the ancient language.

"You are all of these things to me," he intoned, and Kíli thought he might be dreaming.

"My portrait, on the tapestry, the one you traced," Fíli began, peering up at the other imploringly. Kíli opened his mouth in surprise, realising for the first time just how long the other dwarf had trailed him through the halls. He hadn't even noticed, lost in his thoughts as he was.

"I would have yours right beside it," the blond vowed, drawing a gasp from the other dwarf. Fíli smiled and let go of his brother's hands, pressing one against Kíli's front, just beneath his belt.

"And our children below it," Fíli voiced softly and Kíli's breath caught in his throat. He stared into the other dwarf's blue irises, completely lost for words. The two rarely shared such moments of silence, one almost always telling a joke or some kind of silly story to the other. It was an unusual experience, so much so that Kíli was at a loss. The emotions Kíli experienced from the kiss were nothing compared to the overwhelming joy he felt in that instant, but he just didn't know how to express it. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye, and he blinked his eyes rapidly to try and dry them, raising his face up towards the light above them. He took a moment to watch the dust flicker about amongst the rays of light, before closing his eyes serenely. Kíli was trembling and he breathed in deeply as his brother's fingers found their way to his arms again. Fíli's hands gripped his wrists tightly, holding him firmly in place, and the blond leaned forwards and kissed away the wet trail on his face, before moving to join their lips once more.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Oh no! I've caught the mpreg bug! For some reason this story turned me into a blushing mess, and there's not even any porn. What is wrong with me? Also…writing my own kinks is hard.

**Khuzdul Words**

Rayad : Heir

Rayadith: Heir that is young

Mizimith: Jewel that is young

Bâhith: Friend that is young

Nadadith: Brother that is young


End file.
